Flo's Recipes

Thursday, March 28, 2013

This past Monday
night, the Friends met at my house. These gatherings are always one of the highlights
of my month, but this particular meeting seemed especially enjoyable. Maybe because I hadn’t been able to attend the past two months. Maybe because all the delectable comfort food they brought hit the spot on a cold
“spring” night. Or maybe because Gone Girl—our book for March—lent itself to a very interesting discussion.

The Friends were
divided in their opinions of this NY
Times bestselling mystery by Gillian Flynn. Basically, it is the story of Amy
and Nick, married for five years and hell-bent on destroying each other. Amy is
narcissistic, self-absorbed, and psychopathic; Nick merely narcissistic and
self-absorbed. Neither is remotely likeable. About two-thirds of the Friends
enjoyed the book; one third didn’t. Those who did enjoy it liked it mainly for
plot, for its “shock value.” As one Friend so succinctly put it, “It creeped me
out.” It isn’t surprising the book’s appeal lies mainly in its plot, as there
is NOTHING in either of the two lead characters we can even remotely
admire. One Friend said she “admired” Amy’s “evilness,” but I’m thinking she
found the “evilness” intriguing rather than admirable. The book did lead to a discussion
on the difference between a psychopath and a sociopath—a point we never never
fully clarified. One googled source stated the issue is debated at the “highest
levels.” We decided we definitely fit into that category!

Having given the
opinions of the two-thirds who favored the book, I’ll now give voice to the
few dissenters, of which I’m one. Before writing this post, I checked the
reviews on Amazon. Given the book’s popularity, I fully expected to see it
rated as a five-star or at least a four-star read. I was surprised to see it
earned only three and a half stars. The one-star reviews expressed my exact sentiment: There is nothing positive to be gained
from reading this book. Or as Miss Dupree,
my eleventh-grade English teacher, would have said, “It has no redeeming social
value.” As I implied above, there is no protagonist in this story—no one to
“pull for.” A protagonist doesn’t have to be perfect, but he/she should have at
least some qualities that make him/her worthy of our sympathy. Nope, no such
person in Gone Girl. Like Tom and
Daisy Buchanan on steroids, the lead characters tear through their egomaniacal
lives, leaving a path of destruction in their wake. And we don’t even have a
Jay Gatsby to feel sorry for.

As for plot,
I’ll admit, Flynn writes a great beginning. The first few pages had me hooked,
hungrily reading and turning pages. About a third of the way in, I was
suspecting the major twist, and about halfway through, I found the plot to be
contrived and unrealistic. My husband and I have been married for almost
thirty-nine years, and the only prediction I’ll make with absolute certainty
about him is he won’t eat beets. The amazing Amy is able to foretell every
single move her husband will make. She might be brilliant, but even a genius
wife can’t do that. I thought I might be alone in this assessment, but I found
many on Amazon who agree with me. For us, Gone
Girl can’t be gone soon enough.

Something all the
Friends did agree on—every single dish deserved five stars! It was almost
impossible to decide on a single recipe to share with you, but one mentioned
several times was Jean’s Beans—prepared by Pat. If only all veggies could taste
this delicious!

Jean's
Beans

1 lb. fresh green beans

4 T butter (I use less)

1/2 cup minced onion

4 cloves garlic, crushed

1/4 cup celery, minced

1/2 cup parsley, chopped

1 tsp rosemary or 1/4 tsp dried (98% of the time I use
fresh, but I did use dried once and it was still good)

1/4 tsp basil

3/4 tsp salt - I use half this amount if I salt the water
the beans cook in

Trim the ends off the beans and cut them diagonally into
2" pieces. Cook in enough water to cover them for 15 mins. or until tender

Drain and keep warm.

Melt the butter and saute the onion, celery and garlic for
about 5 mins. Add the parsley, rosemary, basil and salt, cook for another the
10 mins. The recipe says to cover them, but I don't.

Toss everything together and serve.

The original recipe is called Herbed Green Beans and Jean
found it in the cookbook San Francisco A La Carte which is put out by the
Junior League of San Francisco. It has become the go to holiday recipe for most
of my family.

Hope you enjoy
this recipe as much as the Friends did. And please share with me your opinion of
Gone Girl.

Saturday, March 16, 2013

No doubt about it, the writers for
Yahoo Shineknow how to rope in a reader. The teaser under the headshot of an attractive
young woman was something like: “What’s different about this mannequin?” Oh, so
it was a mannequin. I clicked on the pic.

I thought the article would be about
how a certain H&M store in Sweden is using lifelike robots as mannequins. I
was wrong. What’s causing all the buzz—or what has “gone viral” or “set tongues
wagging”—is that the mannequins are a lifelike Size
12. In addition to “sparking an internet praise-a-thon,” the use of these
mannequins has raised a criticism: “Will this just encourage obesity?”

I’ll have to say, this particular question
was not what first popped into my mind for many reasons. First, Lane Bryant has
used “plus-sized,” “full-figured,” or my favorite Precious Ramwotse euphism “traditionally-built”
mannequins for years. The concept is not new. I guess what makes these
mannequins so special is that they’re being used in a more mainstream venue—a
store that caters to the youthful and “hip”—as opposed to the old and hippy.
Second, I don’t consider a Size 12 to be obese. A little overweight, maybe, but
not to the point of being unhealthy. And when the average size of women these
days is a 14—as the article states—a Size 12 could actually be considered the “new
small,” couldn’t it? Anyway, that’s the reasoning I’m going with.

So while the obesity question didn’t
occur to me, here are some that did:

·What’s
with the Princess Leia hairdo? I’m so hoping this isn’t a fashion forecast. But
maybe because this store is in Sweden, the Viking-opera-singer look works.

·Why
the socks? Are the mannequin’s feet cold, but not her bare legs and midriff? Has she just smeared Vaseline on her heels and doesn't want to get the platform
greasy? Are slouchy, stretched-out socks the latest in sexy boudoir attire?
If so, I’ve been sexy all this past winter and didn’t even realize it. I don’t
think my husband did, either.

·If
this model is supposed to be so lifelike, where’re the muffin tops? I know they
claim to make panties that don’t create these, but I’ve yet to find any that follow
through on this promise and still stay up without a belt or suspenders.

·Along
this same line, where are the wobbly bits? If we’re truly going for lifelike
here, let’s show a little cottage cheese.

·Why
the shawl? Actually, I know the answer to this—to hide the wing-dings. The only
time I’ve bared my upper arms in public in the past few years was to go
swimming. And I wouldn’t have done it then if they made swimsuits with sleeves.

Maybe you can answer some of these
questions for me. Or maybe you have questions of your own. Or maybe you just
don’t give a rip about what marketers tell women they should look like and you’re
happy with yourself whatever size you wear. Please comment!

PS If you know where I can find those magic no-muffin-top panties, I'd really love to hear from you!

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

When I received this picture of
Brooks, I immediately thought of the first lines of a William Carlos Williams
poem, “So much depends upon a red wheelbarrow.” I guess in my career as an
English teacher, I must have read or assigned this poem a dozen times. But to
be honest, I never understood—truly understood—that first line until I saw
this picture. Brooks might not able to verbalize his thoughts, but his
expression tells me he definitely understands what Williams is saying. A red
wheelbarrow doesn’t just carry dirt or tools or toys. A red wheelbarrow carries
possibilities.

Another person who would have
understood this poem was my dad, Joe Fink. As a young man of seventeen, he
found his dream job. He joined the merchant marines and sailed off to see the
world, albeit a world being ravaged by WWII. A few years later, it took a
shipwreck to convince him that sailing was not the best occupation for a family
man. He traded his seafaring for a job at a refinery along the Houston ship
channel. Not the most glamorous or exciting of occupations, but steady work
that would provide well for his family.

After twenty-five years at the same
company, he retired. A hard worker all his life, he now had time to pursue
another dream job—gardening. And he pursued it with gusto. In winter, he’d
study the Farmer’s Almanac, deciding
when and what to plant. The first hint of spring would draw him outside to
prepare the soil by hauling dirt, manure, or compost--all in a wheelbarrow--all the while imagining
the crops the contents of that wheelbarrow would yield.

I’m sure he didn’t work long hours
tilling, planting, harvesting just to put food on the table. Quite honestly, it
probably would have been cheaper for him to buy vegetables at the grocery store—
although they wouldn’t have been as tasty and he couldn’t have shared them with
friends and relatives. I think gardening attracted him because it provided a way
to stay active and fit. And it gave him a sense of accomplishment, a sense of
still being productive in his later years. Most of all, I think it gave him
peace—a place and time to meditate, to connect with his Creator. Once, for Christmas, I gave him a little plaque for his garden which bore the following verse by
Dorothy Frances Gurney: “The kiss of the sun for pardon, The song of the birds
for mirth, One is nearer God’s heart in a Garden, Than anywhere else on Earth.”
When he opened the gift and read it, he said, “You know, I really believe
that.”

My dad passed away a few weeks ago.
God, in His perfect timing, took him just as all quality of life was gone. But
it was also perfect timing because it’s almost spring. Time to start a garden.

I’m no Bible scholar, but I do know that
heaven is a place where our souls will be at their happiest, most content
state. So with spring approaching, I like to think of my dad outside. He’s
wearing a straw hat, some worn leather working boots, a pair of dark green coveralls
that sag in the rear. Under a gentle morning sun, he’s headed toward his
garden, pushing a wheelbarrow full of heavenly possibilities.

Daddy maintained a huge garden until his late 80's when he had
to downsize. But even in a small garden, he was able to produce
bumper crops of veggies. (And, of course, he allways had his
his faithful sidekick Sandy to keep him company!)

Welcome

Hello! Thank you for visiting my blog--Focusing on Everyday Grace. Grace is a word with many definitions, ranging from beauty of physical form to the "unmerited favor and love of God." I hope that you will join me as I write about the beautiful, surprising, unexpected, and sometimes even humorous grace to be found in everyday life.